Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

MACI

I sit in class, struggling to listen to my lecturer. My head is spinning, but that's nothing new. All my thoughts do lately are pirouette and clash in my mind. It's like I'm trapped in a two-day-long expanse, unable to escape, not wanting to. It starts with seeing Lukas in the pool and ends when he leaves my bedroom.

I've been doing my best to forget all about it. If I could do that, life could surely go on as usual. People make mistakes and have flings all the time. College is the world of one-night-stands and casual intimacy. Another woman would laugh about this. It would be just another story.

Yet, for me, it's not just anything. It's everything .

After class, I leave the building and head out to my car. I almost drop my bag when I see the figure standing in the shadow of the coffee shop across the street. He's wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. He's famous, after all, but I can tell from his build and the him-ness that it's Lukas.

This differs from all the other times I've "seen" him this past week. There have been many times when I was sure Lukas was watching me. I'd feel a tingling down the back of my spine. I knew that if I turned around, he'd be there, those intense eyes fixated, but I was wrong.

When this Lukas raises his hand, gesturing to me, I know it's him. Proverbial butterflies dance around me as I walk across the parking lot and join him in the shadows.

"Come for a drive?" he asks.

No , I try to make myself say. Maybe I'll tell a lie. It's been getting easier to forget you. Please don't make it difficult again . The truth is, it's been difficult every single second.

"Okay," I murmur.

He reaches down as though to take my hand, then seems to remember himself and gestures to a black sedan instead. I follow close behind, an illicit feeling swimming through me. There's nothing wrong with walking through a parking lot together, but it feels like we're being bad. We're being taboo again. We're going to get intimate again.

In the car, he takes off his hat and his sunglasses. He looks down at me, clenching his jaw. I know that look well, even if I've only seen it a few times. It's replayed in my head over and over ever since we left each other. He's trying to hold himself back. He wants to leap on me, own me, and I want it too, so freaking badly.

"I need to tell you something," he says, starting the engine, "and… it's bad."

He drives aimlessly around the city. I get the sense it's because if he's not focused on the act of driving, he'll give in to the desire blazing between us both. The more he talks, the more panic tears through me.

"He wants ten mill," Lukas finishes.

"What did you tell him?" I ask.

"I needed time, but that was only so I could warn you."

"Yeah, thank you," I murmur. "It's better I know about this."

He stops at a red light, glancing at me. "I don't think you understand. I need to warn you we'll have to tell Kayla."

"What?" He's right. I didn't understand. Reaching over, I grab his arm, feeling his thick muscle through the fabric of his shirt. "We can't just… We can't . We agreed to forget it. It's been the hardest thing I've ever done, but we agreed!"

"Ethan— Finn —wasn't factored into that agreement," Lukas growls. " Finn is going to play the recording for her otherwise. Would you rather she heard it from us or him?"

"Why can't you just pay him?"

"I won't be blackmailed," Lukas snaps. "I refuse to let somebody manipulate me." His arm is trembling against my hand. I'm sure I can feel the heat blazing through him, the outrage.

"But… but…"

"I promised myself years ago I'd never let somebody blackmail me again."

"Again?" I ask. "What do you mean? Who blackmailed you?"

The light changes, and he drives on, pulling his hand away and putting it on the steering wheel. His eyes have a faraway look, an angry shimmer to them.

"Don't close up on me now," I say.

He sighs tiredly. "When I was a kid, my dad forced me to help him with his scams. He'd make me pretend to be lost or tell a stranger I'd lost a piece of jewelry or owed some bad men money. They were lame, petty crimes before he graduated to his real business. Even at a young age, I knew it was wrong." He laughs ruefully, shaking his head. "Dad recorded some of this crap. He threatened to show it to Mom. Never again, Maci. Never again ."

My heartbeat flutters painfully as I picture a younger version of Lukas dealing with all this. "It will break her, Luke," I tell him. "It will ruin her life. We were being good ."

"We've already been bad," he says. "Now, we've got to pay the price."

He turns a corner. Wait, he's not driving aimlessly. He's going toward Kayla's apartment.

"What are you doing?" I snap.

"We have to do this," he replies. "We'll tell her we made a mistake. We got carried away. We'll tell her?—"

"Stop the car."

"Maci—"

"I said stop the fucking car!"

He pulls over at the side of the road. I push the door open and run into a nearby alleyway, puking into the nearest trashcan, acid burning up my throat like the guilt burns in my gut. Lukas walks up behind me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"It's okay."

I spin on him, waving my hand, almost bashing into his arm before he pulls it back.

"It's not," I snap. "It's never going to be okay again. Me and Kayla… I met her before you were rich. I was the rich one. She looked up to me . Do you know how much that means to her? To have a friend she can say, with one hundred percent certainty, loves her for her , not her money?"

He takes a step back, nodding. "I'm not saying this is an ideal situation."

"How long can you hold him off for?" I snap. "Ethan— Finn ? How long?"

"I'm not sure. A few days, maybe. I told him moving the funds around would take some time."

"Then we don't have to tell her today, do we?" I snap, knowing I'm taking the coward's way out, knowing the problem will still be there in a few days.

"Not technically, but…" He runs a hand through his hair, making me want to do the same, even now. "There's no point in delaying."

"There has to be a way out of this," I say. "A way to get that recording."

"I've hired a PI," Lukas tells me. "Originally, it was to look into another matter."

"What?" I ask.

"My business partner—Seb, Sebastian—has gone AWOL, but he's still texting. Call me blackmail-paranoid, but I'm worried about him. I've asked the PI to look into this, too. He's the best in the business, with all the resources to look into this properly."

"Let's give him time to work , then," I say.

"Let's say he deletes the video. It won't change what we did."

"By that logic, we should've told her after our first kiss."

"We should have," he says fiercely. "There's no doubt about that. We both know what the right thing would've been."

"I can't tell her now," I say. "It's too much too fast. Call me immature if you want. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm just a stupid, pathetic, immature girl."

"I didn't say that," he replies fiercely.

Oddly, I'm glad I vomited. It means there's no chance he's going to kiss me. Even with the vomit making my breath stink, he looks at me in that just-Lukas way, like he's debating a kiss.

"When there's no other choice," he says, "I'll tell Kayla, with or without your blessing."

"I just need time," I tell him, wondering if it's a lie or if time will make any of this easier.

"Let me give you a ride back to your car."

He reaches down and takes my hand. He does it so naturally. I don't question it. Instead, I cling to him, savoring his warmth, strength, and the feeling that promises to wrap around me like a blanket. There's something magical about being this close to him after so long.

So long … a week.

He feels it too, I can tell, from the tightness of his grip, almost like he's desperate never to let me go.

I mutter in the car, "I'm sorry about what happened when you were a kid. That's rough." I don't want to brush past that, even if my body is sparking with stress.

He shrugs. "It is what it is, but I meant what I said. I refuse to be blackmailed."

"Where are your parents now?" I ask.

"Dad's in the can, doing thirty years on wire fraud. My mom lives in Spain with her new husband. He's a far better man than my dad ever was. I'm surprised Kayla has never told you any of this."

"She's very respectful about you," I murmur.

"That makes it tougher, I know," he says, reading me. "She's respectful, loving, caring, and here I am, wishing you hadn't just been sick so I could kiss you again."

"Maybe that's the best defense mechanism we could ask for," I say, forcing a laugh, but it sounds panicked and shaky. "Vomit to the rescue, ha, ha… sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me," he says, opening the passenger-side door and nodding me inside. He lets go of my hand. He's probably worried about somebody seeing us. A shiver moves over my skin, ugly and unwelcome, just thinking about someone hearing us.

"I wanted to kill the little prick," Lukas says, climbing into the driver's seat. "Knowing he'd heard you like that… It wasn't even about Kayla at first. It was thinking of him hearing you, with that breathiness in your voice, that perfect sound of excitement you make. Or sounds , I should say. Plural."

I slide my hands over my belly, tempting shimmers dancing through me, trying to get me to do something silly and reckless, like place my hand on his leg.

"It wasn't even about my daughter," he mutters, as though speaking to himself, before starting the car. "It's all about you, Maci. I hate the thought of anybody hearing you like that. Those moans are just for me."

"How?" I say. "We both know we have to stop. We have stopped."

"Yeah," he replies grimly. "For a week, and it's been the hardest week of my life."

"Your company's going through a lot?—"

"It has nothing to do with the company," he says, putting on his sunglasses and cap again as if speaking about his company reminds him we're in public. Anybody could snap a photo of us in the car together.

That wouldn't be that bad, though, would it? A photo of us in a car would be easier to explain than the recording, the moaning, the heat. I try not to fixate on his words—him saying I'm just for him. No, not me . The moans, the sexual side. Not all of me. It's not relationship talk, which is good, I remind myself. I don't want it to be that.

"How is work?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Apparently, the tech guys and gals have patched the hole in the VR," he says. "But I'm asking them to double- and triple- and quadruple-check. I can't let anything like this happen again. I'd rather be broke."

Passion infuses his voice. He cares a lot about his company but more about the people he may have hurt by his mistake. It weighs on him.

Reaching across, I lay my hand on his arm. "You didn't mean for this to happen," I say softly. "You didn't want it to happen. You're a good person, Lukas."

He glances at me. Despite the sunglasses, I know he's got a note of accusation in his eyes. It's like I can see through the shield of the shades. He doesn't have to say anything. He's thinking, How can I be a good person after what we did? I turn away from him but keep my hand on his arm. I can't stand to think of the pool, the bubbles, and the steaminess as a bad thing.

"Maybe your PI will come up with something," I mutter after a pause.

"Unless he can delete every copy of that recording, I'm not sure what difference it'll make. Even then, Ethan— Finn— could tell Kayla. If she asks me directly, I won't be able to lie."

"No," I whisper. "I won't either."

"Which is why we should just tell?—"

"Please," I cut in, as my heart starts to hammer again. "I just need some time."

He sighs but doesn't follow up. He'd rather drive there right now and get this over with. Deep down—and honestly, not that deep—I know that would be the right thing to do, but just the idea of it makes my belly swirl.

"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" I ask, which seems almost ridiculous, trying to speak of normal stuff after everything we've shared.

"More work," he says gruffly.

"You sound… tired."

He stops at a red light, allowing him to look at me. I see myself reflected in his shades, looking small and terrified. "I've been putting in long, long hours."

"Because of the VR stuff?"

"Yeah… and Sebastian, but truthfully, I could delegate a lot more. I'm working so hard because it's easier than the alternative: sitting around thinking about you, Maci, thinking about how empty I feel without you."

I squeeze my legs together. The huskiness in his voice is enough to make my lips feel like they're swelling, my clit aching, like we're in the pool again. Bubbles of lust burst in my mind.

"Maybe you could use me as an excuse to take some time off," I say, laughing like it's a joke, but we both know I'm not joking.

"There's literally nothing I want more," he says passionately, "except for Kayla to be okay with you and me somehow."

You and me, what? I almost ask. Making love? Being together long term? What exactly is this?

"We could go on a private date," he says, "but it feels wrong. No, that's a lie. It feels right. It feels like what we're supposed to do, you and me, Maci, be together, but you know what I mean."

"It is wrong," I say, "but it feels right?"

"Exactly," he replies.

Far too soon, he's pulling up to my car. "How did you know I was here?" I ask.

"The PI," he confesses. "I'm sorry, but it seemed urgent."

"You don't have to be sorry. Maybe it makes me completely crazy, but I like the idea of you keeping tabs on me."

Parking the car, he reaches over, touching my leg. Dangerous, tempting shivers dance up my leg, screaming at me to give myself to him completely, to bring back the passion of the pool.

"Did you mean what you said about a date?" he says, sounding husky.

I grab a thread of fabric on my pants and twist it between my fingers. "Yeah," I whisper, "but only because I don't want you to work yourself to death."

He smirks. I can imagine his eyes gleaming behind the shades. He leans forward as if he's going to kiss me and then pulls away. Maybe it's because of the vomit or that we're in public. "It's wrong," he says. "We both know that."

"Yeah," I mutter.

After a pause, he says, "Give me your cell phone number, Maci."